Boxing Tool

Round 3

Henry leaned back on his corner, not even bothering to hide is smug arrogance... on his face or in his trunks. He had taken the hits, he had faced off against an opponent worth a damn, and he had fought back and conquered. The young lord Featherstone had showed his power in battle, and none would question it. No more of his father tricks, no calling the match in his obvious and biased favor, he had done this all on his own. And he wanted more, he was hungry for more, he DEMANDED more. As his maid massaged his chest and abs, going just below the waist line, he closed his eyes and imagined Ben doing this for him. Beaten and broken, forced to worship the man who had defeated him. His hands, shaking in fear of another beating for not pleasing his new lord, would be perfect after this match. Yes, he would bring Ben to the temple of Henry's body and make him worship for a good long time.

How he didn't blow his top right then and there would remain a mystery. Or, maybe not? There were still several rounds to be fought, and it would be a shame to spoil or delay them. Henry smiled, both in pleasure and in thrill of the fight, this round he would focus on the amazing smooth chest Ben had. He would beat it to a pulp, and make it his own.

Ben's world had changed rapidly today, resembling more an out of control emotional rollercoaster than what people would call "a normal day". Ben started off really good, landing hits and dodging like a pro. The feel of his glove impacting another man, causing them to hurt and step back, it was an amazing feeling. He fought for respect and got it. For once in his life, Ben had someone fear him, respect him, and he never wanted to go back. This match was freaking great! In fact, it was the best he had done in a very long time, maybe even ever. He felt the fire, the thrill of the fight, and he wanted more. Then, all of a sudden, his world became a blur, as he was hit hard with a sucker punch. Now his face was marked with the wounds from battle. Bruised, banged up, and covered in blood, it was a monument to his failure, to his inability to keep up. He was ashamed, and he wanted vengeance. As his aid cleaned him up as best as he could or would, and downed the horrid-tasting rich people water, he planned his next move...

Mr. Featherstone was extremely pleased with himself, more so than he thought he would be. By his refined and divine forethought, he had come to see his son once again perform above expectations. Even more pleasing, the product of his line was currently creating and implementing new ways of playing with the lower stock. Mr. Featherstone felt a chuckle come on, and did not suppress it. This boy, his boy, would make a worthy successor after his passing. With but a simple gesture, his glass was refilled, ready for the next round to amuse him. Snapping his figures his servants went about seeing his will done, just as the next bell rang, and the round began. 

The sound of sacred and manly combat. The bell rang and both combatants were up, ready and hungry for more. Ben pounded his gloves together, producing odd sounds that he ultimately ignored, and engaged in combat. Ben knew he would have to work extra hard to make up for lost ground, not to mention avoiding any more potentially career ending damage. His head still buzzed, an unfortunate side effect of the multiple hits there, but he would power through it, he had to. Ben would be the first to swing, a left hook that went wide. Cursing himself, he would follow it up, with some frustration on his face, with a right jab. It would be the first in a half of dozen of jabs to push Henry back and keep him off guard. What Ben wouldn't give to get Henry trapped in the corner... Yet, his hits were dodged with ease and more speed than Henry should have had. "What the crap?!" Ben quickly thought to himself while engaging in his next attack. Ben went down low and threw a one two combo at the boy's body. While they were quick, clean, and should have hit their mark without question, they were easily blocked by Henry's gloves. "What the hell is going on...", Ben thought. This shouldn't be happening, he wasn't that punch drunk, nor did he have a concussion. How did this kid suddenly get all this speed and power? Was he holding back in the previous rounds? Was he playing with him... or was Ben the one with a problem? Ben cursed as a wave of dizziness overtook him again, sneaking up on him like a thief in the night. His vision once again became blurry, and everything jerked around him as if the world and time itself, had stopped then suddenly started again. He attempted to swing, but missed several times, this wasn't going to end well. Ben put up his guard, hoping to steady and regain himself before-